


Tavern Stories

by BelleWrites (sunleyemrys)



Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunleyemrys/pseuds/BelleWrites
Summary: This one was a request from zinjadu on reddit. The whole story amuses me greatly





	Tavern Stories

“Don’t drink alone! Get over here!” Bull gestured with his mug, spilling is contents. Fenris debated the merits of joining the Qunari at his table, but in the interest of keeping Hawke happy. “Very well, The Iron Bull.” Fenris slung his sword over his shoulder, clutching the half-empty wine bottle as he walked over to the table Bull was sitting at.

Bull gave Fenris a tooth-filled smile, pulling the wine from the elf’s hand. “Enough of that weak shit. Try this stuff.” He poured a blood colored liquid into a mug and pushed it toward him.

“Dare I ask?” Fenris gave the mug a sniff, wrinkling his nose. “Marass-Lok? I was not aware you could still get it. Not being, uh.” He stopped, embarrassed.

“Fenris, its okay. I know what I am. And besides, I stole enough barrels of the stuff to keep me going for ten years, easily.” Bull took a long drink, coughing as he set the mug on the table.

Fenris took a cautious sip, as much as he imbibed normally, he had promised Hawke to keep a clear head while they were there. A favor for her. It was always something for her. He couldn’t help himself.

“Say, have you met that Warden friend of Varric’s?” Bull leaned on the table, whispering to try and not draw attention to the odd pair.

He swallowed a larger amount. “Hawke has met him a few times. He is wed to her cousin I believe. She isn’t sure about how she feels about her cousin marrying an ex-Templar. But,” Fenris paused, hearing familiar boots enter the tavern. “But, Hawke cant really say much. She choose to marry an ex-Tevinter elf slave.” He turned towards the sounds and raised his hand. “Alistair. Over here. Someone wants to meet you.”

Alistair looked in his direction seeing a massive Qunari sitting across from the tattooed elf. Giant swords laid on the table between them. “Greetings cousin!” He practically skipped over, sitting next to Fenris.

“Please don’t call me that…” Fenris muttered, taking another drink. Hawke loved her cousin, her cousin loved this strange human, he would put up with it. For her.

“Alistair, The Iron Bull. Drink.” He poured some for the Warden, sliding a mug over, refusing to tell the man what he was about to consume.

Bull took the offered hand. “A pleasure, Bull. I’ve heard a great deal about the Chargers. Solid company. Good work.” Alistair took the mug and gulped down, barely coughing.

Bull’s eyebrows quirked. “Uh, Alistair?” With the amount he had just drank, Alistair should have been on the ground vomiting.

He set the mug down. “That’s really good Marass-Lok!” His smile faced at the two confused faces staring at him. “What? Oh. Right.” Alistair feigns coughing for a moment. “The wife is a big fan of collecting and trying various alcohols. I am fairly certain I no longer have any nerves in my throat, not after that Tevinter Fire-Wine she made me try.”

“And here I thought Ellana was bad for that.” Bull muttered, shaking his head.

Fenris grinned, feeling slightly more at ease. “Hawke never had any long enough. Between our weekly Wicked Grace nights, Isabela constantly stealing it, and her need to celebrate everything. The legendary Amell Wine Cellars were pretty bare.”

Alistair took another drink. “Well Hawke also gave us a bunch of it when we were in Kirkwall, she called it a wedding slash saving the world gift. And Amell was just so happy that some of her family was still alive that she didn’t refuse Hawke. One of the few times I’ve seen my wife puking drunk.”

Bull was intrigued. He was sitting with two men intrinsically linked to two of the most powerful women of the age, and it pleased him to hear that the Hero of Fereldan got puking drunk on more than one occasion. “So this happened more than once? Tell me more.”

Fenris laughed. “Alistair’s stories are no where near the scope of hauling an angry, drunken Hawke through the streets of Kirkwall. For a mage, she is surprisingly strong.”

Alistair shook his head, smiling, she was going to kill him for this. “Well the most memorable was the time Oghren got her drunk of dwarven ale. He somehow convinced her that you mix the ale with ice wine. They drank six bottles of that mix, and he passed out in a bush. Amell, well, she decided she could fly, and the only way to take-off was to set the ground on fire. Somehow she convinced Sten to throw her and she landed in the river. Zevran and I had to fish her out while she screamed about how dragons can fly, and shes met and defeated a dragon, so now shes a dragon.”

Bull bellowed, beating his fists on the table. “Wait. It gets better!” Alistair waved his mug in the air. “The hangover took three days to go away, and she spent all her free-time after that bothering Morrigan to teach her the dragon trick.”

Fenris drained his mug. “It must be a family trait because Hawke does the same thing. Both times she ran into Flemeth, dragon-this, dragon-that. For weeks. And then we ran into a full-grown one at the Bone Pit. She kept trying to stun the damn thing, to ‘study’. Between her and Varric that night at the Hanged Man, I believe they finally ran out of alcohol. Have either of you had to drag a crazed, drunk mage through a city in the middle of the night, while they scream that its not fair they aren’t a dragon? She burnt her face many times trying to breathe fire.”

Bull was fascinated. Dragon obsessions. It was hilarious. “The only thing that kept her from being arrested and tossed into the Gallows was her status as Champion. There were so many noise complaints, and one threat from Aveline for me to somehow control her better.” Fenris refilled his cup, running a hand through his hair. “Hawke barely listens to herself, how could I ever persuade her to not run, raving through the streets?”

“Oh, I dunno, distracting me with mind-blowing, animalistic sex might do it.” A voice next to his ear said, nipping him gently. Fenris jumped, turning towards his wife. “Uh, hi Marian?” Two figures stood behind her. “Amell. Ellana.”

Bull’s laughter could be heard in the stables.


End file.
